Wedding March
by Sugar Kane
Summary: It's 1981. Jack has just married a colleague, leaving another - Ben Stone - struggling to come to grips with his feelings at the reception.


_Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, and no profit is made from these stories. (But I do have fun writing them! : )_

**Notes: **This story was written for a challenge on thursday100plus - the objective was that we could write whatever we wanted, provided that we use a bizarre phrase (provided) as the closing line. Also a warning - Jack is a real bastard in this one. McCoy Toys, don't say I didn't warn you. : )

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**Saturday, May 16, 1981**

The gathering at the Plaza was a veritable Who's Who of the New York legal community. Attorneys from both sides of the justice system mingled as one. Laughter and clinking glasses dotted the ambience; off in the corner, a jazz band played. Normally, Ben Stone would be right at home in a setting like this. But it was no regular party. 

It was Jack McCoy's wedding reception. 

Heather Doyle was a fellow ADA who had assisted Jack on several cases, less than a year ago. It was inevitable that it would become more than a working relationship - after all, Jack hadn't earned his reputation for nothing. But no one really expected him to march her down the aisle. 

_She's gotta be something special to land_ you, _Jack!_

The comment was made a hundred times, in about a hundred different ways. With each one, Ben's mood became as bitter as the white wine he was drinking. 

If only Heather knew how Jack spent his final night of bachelorhood. 

Ever the gentleman, Ben wasn't about to tell her - but oh, how he _wanted_ to. He ached to fill her in on how Jack had fucked him six ways to Sunday, leaving him so sore that he could barely sit in this damned chair - plush as it may be. 

Just as he had done, off and on, for the last three and a half years. 

_Would this spectacle have gone on if_ that _secret were to come out?_

Ben sighed. Why was he taking this out on Heather? He liked and respected her. And besides, she could hardly be faulted for falling for the son-of-a-bitch. 

_Just as I did,_ he remarked to himself sadly. 

But that was not part of the original plan. Jack arrived at Hogan Place in 1973, bringing with him a hailstorm of emotions that Ben had never experienced before. He didn't like the man, plain and simple - but his dislike was equally matched by an intense wave of desire. Jack had a way of doing that to people, attracting both men and women with the force of his charm. 

Ben was equal parts horrified and intrigued by his attraction, and spent the better part of four years hiding it. Until a lingering stare said too much. Jack was like a piranha who'd just caught the scent of blood, and Ben had wanted him far too long to say no. It didn't matter that he was married, or that he had a daughter whom he loved more than life itself. All he could think of at that moment was his own raw, unyielding need. 

It should have stopped there. One single, unbelievable night of dislike and arousal culminating in the best sex of Ben's life. But it metastasized into an intermittent affair that didn't stop until Jack met Heather, leaving Ben with a tattered marriage and feelings that he couldn't understand - much less control. 

_The bastard destroys everything he touches. She'll probably be no exception._

Ben knew that their last rendezvous was a searing mistake. That he should have told Jack to go to hell, instead of following him to the hotel where all of their encounters had taken place. He also knew that Jack expected him to disappear like a good boy - _not_ to show up at these festivities and watch him parade around with his Old Money bride. 

The fact that Jack had _invited_ him was gall personified. And Ben accepted the invitation, only to make a point. He was here as living proof that Jack McCoy's rampant heterosexuality, put on display for all to see, was nothing more than a ridiculous façade. The man was a fraud. No one else knew that - but Jack certainly did, and Ben hoped that the mere sight of his face would serve as a permanent reminder of that fact at the very moment that Jack promised to love, honor, and cherish. 

For that, he was willing to put himself through self-torture. However, the feat just wasn't possible without medication of his own choosing - so here he was in the posh ballroom, thoroughly sloshed. With the groom headed his way, no less. 

Jack sat next to him. Ben hoped for an apology, or at least some gentle assurance. Instead, what he got was the standard "thank you for coming" speech. 

That's when he said it. He felt instant regret as soon as the words left his mouth. The remark was extremely childish, and hardly true. Heather was tall and lithe, with the face of a model and long, black curls. 

"Your wife - she looks like an iguana." 

_finis_


End file.
